Unusual Occupation
by cardiffictionlocked1895
Summary: AU. Sherlock gets kidnapped (another of those stories, sorry) by a woman with a strange job and an even stranger request. It seems cliché enough but when Sherlock is forced to uncover his abductor's past, he discovers more than he ever expected to. No pairings. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This chapter starts post the actual kidnapping. The next chapter details what happened before. You can flip-flop the chapters, or read them in this order, it doesn't matter, but this is the order that I wrote them in and I think it's interesting to read this way. **

**By the way, ****tiny**** spoiler for TSiB, just a passing reference to when Irene drugged Sherlock at her house. -Bree**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable **

**Anyways, enjoy!**

Chapter 1- Sherlock

I groggily opened my eyes. A hood was pulled over my head, so I couldn't see anything, but I could feel that I was tied to a chair. My mouth was duct taped shut. My left temple throbbed and that side of my head was sticky with blood.

Suddenly the hood was tugged off my head, and I was momentarily blinded by the brightly lit room. It was a lavish room; small, but clearly owned by someone rich, judging by the furniture. In front of me stood the two guards from before and between them was a woman. She was about my age, but short, with long dark hair. She had an imposing air and was wearing an expensive dress; she must be the guards' employer.

"This is him?" her voice was silky, and it made her sound young.

"Of course, Victoria." One of the guards replied.

Victoria came forward, putting two fingers under my chin and tipping my head back, forcing me to look at her. "What a pretty gift you've brought me." Her hand brushed my hair off my face, her fingertips tracing my jaw, my cheekbones, and finally, she gingerly touched the bridge of my nose. I was surprised to find that it hurt, and guessed that the guard's knife had slashed it earlier instead of missing it as I'd thought.

Victoria pursed her lips. "That's a nasty gash you gave him."

"Just making him cooperate, ma'am." stated one of the guards.

"Well, it was unnecessary." She spoke so sharply that the guard actually flinched. "I'm going to fix him up. Excuse me." She purred, back to her harmless, sweet tone, and left briefly before returning with a bottle filled with some kind of liquid and a cloth.

The guards exchanged glances as she poured some of the fluid onto the cloth and proceeded to gently clean the wounds on both my nose and my temple. Once she was finished, she stepped back to admire her work. "Now doesn't he look better, Andy?"

The guard who she had scolded for cutting me answered stiffly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Glad you think so." Then she leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, "This is going to hurt." Without any other warning, she ripped the duct tape off my mouth. I winced at the sudden pain.

"There." Victoria crumpled the tape into a ball and tossed it away.

"Ma'am, are you sure that was-" started Andy, who was clearly the mouthpiece of the two guards.

Victoria glared at him. "Well, who else is going to tell me what his name is?"

Andy shrugged. "I don't know."

"I don't know _what_?"

"I don't know, _ma'am_."

"That's right." She turned again to me. "Who are you?"

I hesitated, trying to come up with a viable alias.

"Please do skip the false name. I'll find out if you're lying anyway, and it's quicker if you cut to the chase. Come on, speak up, I don't bite." She sounded impatient, so I complied.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes."

Victoria whistled. "Interesting name you've got. Let's see if you're being truthful." She turned to the guards. "Andy, Flynn, look him up for me." They wordlessly walked out of the room.

Once they were gone, I looked at Victoria. "Why bother with that? You already knew who I am."

She smiled. "'Course I do. They don't know that I do, though." She paused. "How did _you_ know that I recognized you?"

"Easy. When they pulled the hood off me, the look on your face was enough, coupled with your glance at the newspaper on that desk over there afterward and the guards' confusion at your behavior towards me. You wouldn't act like this for any old hostage, no, you expected someone different. You thought they'd just kidnap any random suitable man off the street, not someone as well-known as I am. You're being nice to me because you know they'll find me here and if I've been mistreated, that's just more condemning evidence on you. So you decided to play the part of the savior, maybe even call the police yourself, and rat out your guards. You never liked them anyway, as they were always condescending. You'll bribe me to stay silent about your actual role in this. You can kill two birds with one stone; get rid of your annoying employees and get yourself out of danger." I stopped, realizing I'd said far too much. I cursed myself for wanting to show off.

Throughout my speech, several different emotions flashed across Victoria's face- first shock, then irritation, and, lastly, odd surrender. "You're right. You're right about all of it. Except that it's all been done before. I did kidnap a mildly famous man, among lots of other ordinary ones, a time ago. You might remember it. It was all over the news: how I had heroically rescued the poor man from his vicious captors." She laughed. It was a shrill, high-pitched laugh. "I gave him a nice bit of cash for his trouble, obviously, and that was all there was to it."

"Why go through all that expense, though, just to get me?" I was honestly curious.

"I was simply prematurely clearing my name with that first guy, removing all suspicion. You're the real prize, Sherlock." She drew out my name, rolling it on her tongue. "You were the target from the beginning. I need you. Not for ransom, not to solve a crime. You're just going to stay with me for a while."

"And what does that entail?" I asked tentatively, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, don't look so scared. I'm not going to have sex with you or anything." Seeing my relieved look, she went on. "You'll be my protection in two ways. One: if the police do catch up on me, as I'm sure they will eventually, I'll threaten to kill you unless they give me what I want."

"And what is that?"

"Freedom from conviction, and relief from my debt."

"You do realize that's an incredibly flimsy and overused plan." I pointed out. "It doesn't have a chance of working."

"That's where the other way that you're my protection comes into play. You'll be my personal bodyguard. I've got a select line of work, and sometimes I need to get my hands dirty, come in contact with killers, that kind of thing. My other guards are far too aggravating to do something like this, and I think you're the best man for the job."

"I'll never agree to that, you know." I replied stubbornly.

She sighed. "Well, the other option is to drug you the whole time you're here, and I promise that won't be fun."

I shuddered at the memory of my initial meeting with Irene. "In that case… I'll reconsider."

She nodded. Clearly she'd anticipated this. "I thought you might. In the meantime, I'll explain why I needed you in particular, before you ask." She started ticking off her fingers. "You know self-defense, which is crucial in a bodyguard; you're clever, and I won't be associated with someone stupid; you're relatively prominent, so you'll be missed but not too much; you're good at what you do, and that means, had someone else been in your place, you'd probably find me sooner than the police can, and you can't exactly do that now; perhaps most importantly, you're physically attractive."

The last item on the list threw me for a loop. "You kidnapped me because you think I'm good-looking?" I questioned, incredulous.

Victoria huffed. "For the record, I do think you're beautiful, but that's not solely the reason I picked you. Anyway, I'm guessing you've already made your decision about accepting my terms of your stay."

She made it sound like we were making a business deal. "I'll be your bodyguard, if that's what you want. I'm not sure I have much of a choice in the matter anyway. It's a rather unusual demand for an abductor to make."

"Well, I'm not your usual abductor, am I?" She arched a thin eyebrow.

"Point taken." I paused. There was more to this than she was telling me. People didn't kidnap other people just to get a bodyguard. "You could have just asked me in the first place."

Victoria pursed her lips. "You would have said no. This is easier anyways. Less of a hassle." She walked behind me, where I couldn't see her. Her hands brushed at the back of my neck. I tensed.

"Relax." She breathed, but I couldn't.

"What are you-" my question tapered off in a gasp as fingertips pressed on either side of my neck, squeezing hard. It hurt more than I expected. Stars exploded in my vision. I must have blacked out for a time, because the next time I opened my eyes, I had been released from the chair and was lying in a large bed, still in the same room.

Victoria stood by me, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Pressure points. Thirty seconds and you pass out. Another half-minute and you'd be dead."

I sat up. "Kind of you not to kill me when you had the chance." Sarcasm dripped from my voice.

The harmless look on her face was back, as if _she_ was pleading with _me_. "Oh, don't be like that. I need you, remember? You were only even out for five minutes. I just didn't trust you not to run when I untied you, and, besides, I thought you should try out this bed. You'll be a guest here for a while."

I swung my legs off the bed and stood next to her, the top of her head not even reaching my shoulder. "And you trust me not to run now?"

In response she held up a gun. "I took the precaution of grabbing this while you were unconscious."

Inferring from her earlier comment about her job and my own observations, I was sure that she had experience with the weapon. "It's not likely you'll kill me. That wouldn't end well for you. Tranquilizers, then?"

She nodded. "And there are always a few bullets if it comes to it."

"It won't."

"I figured you'd say that." She shifted the gun to a hip holster: more evidence of her skill. "I already sent Andy and Flynn off so they won't bother us and we can get onto business. You seem willing enough to cooperate- given the alternatives –so this shouldn't be too difficult. My profession is, like I said, unusual. To be specific, I keep the cops off of convicts' backs. Lots of people can get the job done, but only some of them can do it smoothly. I help with that, and, as you can see-" She gestured around the expensively decorated room. "-I am paid rather well, because people will do anything to stay out of jail." She shrugged, like it was a total accident that she ended up as the clean-up crew for criminals.

"You do realize that assisting felons is a crime, and that you just told me, a detective, all of that?"

She waved the question away. "Of course I knew what I was getting into. Besides, you won't be able to tell the police anything for a good while, will you?" she smiled sweetly, and I realized with some horror that I had no idea what _I_ was getting into.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: here's a flashback to the night before, like I said. It's a bit short. Hope you like it. -Bree**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable **

Chapter 2- Sherlock

_I jerked awake. Looking around me, I could tell it was the middle of the night, and I was still sitting at the table, having stayed up late to work on an experiment. I hadn't even changed out of my suit; I didn't expect to fall asleep here. _

_Irritated that I'd nodded off earlier, I began searching the pitch black flat for whatever had woken me up. It might have been nothing, as I'm a pretty light sleeper, but I had to make sure. _

_And then I heard a creak like a footstep. I stood motionless, waiting to hear the sound again. It couldn't be John, I knew. He wouldn't sneak around if he had wanted to come down for whatever reason, he'd just walk normally into the kitchen, not bothering to be quiet, flip on the light, and then yell at me for still being up. Besides, I had heard nothing from the stairs leading from his room. _

_The noise came again, slightly louder, and followed quickly by a swearword, and then a quick 'shush.' There were of them, then, and both men, by the sound of their voices. One of them moved silently, and the other one fumbled around clumsily. I stayed where I was, realizing that they didn't know that I could hear them, and hoped that I wasn't about to get kidnapped for a second time. _

_It was a vain hope. A sigh came from one of the men, and, before I could react, the lights were turned on and I could finally see the intruders' faces. Unfortunately, they could also see me. _

_"__What the h*ll…" muttered the shorter man, clearly having expected to find me sleeping in my bedroom instead of standing randomly and fully awake in the kitchen. I was even still holding a vial of chemicals, as I had just begun picking up my experiment a bit. For one fateful second, the men just stared at me and I stared back, all of us unsure how to proceed. Then two events happened in quick succession: a the vial I was gripping slipped and fell oh-so-conveniently into open container of acid, and the contents inside the vial mixed together with the acid and created an explosion. _

_I was thrown back and lay stunned for a moment, my senses tingling. The chemical outburst had left a shroud of smoke hanging in the air, so I didn't see the dagger until it whizzed right above my face, nearly catching my nose. I leapt up from the floor, but the smoke hadn't cleared yet. I didn't notice the man creeping up behind me until it was too late, as a fist slammed into the left side of my head. The last thought on my mind before I blacked out was _not again.

**A/N: and of course something had to blow up, it's my style, if you've read my other pieces. Reviews obviously appreciated. -Bree**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm thinking of making this whole thing Sherlock's POV instead of switching back and forth like I usually do, what do you guys think? Do you want a Victoria chapter? Comment in reviews please.**

**And yes, in case you were wondering, I am steering clear of my sister's preferred Adlock ship (see our fanfic ****_Rare Edition_****). I don't ship them, so I decided not to put Irene into this one at all. **

**Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything recognizable, unfortunately. **

Chapter 3- Sherlock

Victoria left shortly after, claiming she had an appointment to set up- an appointment I would also be attending, apparently, as her bodyguard. I can't say I was especially looking forward to it.

The clock on the wall read past ten- at night, judging by the lack of any light coming from the bolted shut and enforced window. Perfect time to get some sleep, but of course I wasn't tired. Last night, in fact- at least I thought it was the last night-while I had still been at my flat, I hadn't planned on sleeping, and even though I had ended up drifting off then, I knew I wouldn't now. I wasn't nearly stupid to fall asleep willingly in a kidnapper's house, however much I was being accommodated, and if I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well do something remotely useful, like checking for cameras. After a thorough search, I came to the conclusion that there weren't any in the room. A good call on Victoria's part, considering that any videos filmed of me in this room would be more then incriminating evidence against her.

Next I looked at the door and window. The window was, as I had noticed earlier, vertically crossed by metal bars, and therefore could be eliminated as means for an escape. I'd heard her double-lock the door earlier, and I had no doubt that there were guards standing outside it. It would be idiotic to try to get past them without a weapon, and it wasn't like Victoria had carelessly left her gun behind. So I was stuck here, with nothing to do but wait for morning.

That was exactly what I did. According to the clock, it was around eight the next day when Victoria rather over-dramatically burst into the room.

"I hope you slept well, Sherlock." She greeted me. I almost rolled my eyes. Not that I looked tired, because I wasn't, but it was clear that the bed hadn't been slept in. I'd purposely avoided it since I'd woken up in it after she'd knocked me out the day before.

"Today I have a meeting with a client." she quickly reminded me, after seeing the look on my face at her first comment. "And you know you'll be coming with me." She held out my coat and scarf.

Not bothering to ask how she had gotten ahold of them, I unceremoniously pulled them on. "We're leaving already?"

She nodded.

"And you're just _telling_ me to come with you?" I had anticipated that there'd be a threat attached.

"You _will_ come, one way or another. The question is whether you walk out of here or get dragged out."

And _there _was the threat. "I think I'll walk."

"That's what I thought." She tugged a blindfold out of her pocket and tied it over my eyes. I had expected that. She had experience and she also knew who I was and what I could do; she wasn't about to let me get a good view of my surroundings. What I was not prepared for was, after she'd finished tying the ends into a knot, that she ran her fingers quickly through my hair. I automatically flinched away.

She didn't say anything as to my reaction, but fortunately her hand dropped. "Let's go, then. I don't like to be late." She tugged at my arm and led me out of the room. I carefully kept track of the turns: left, right, left, right, right, right, and left. Soon I found myself being pushed into a car, the car door shutting behind me, and then we started moving, Victoria sitting uncomfortably close to me. A long hour later, the car stopped and we got out. Victoria pulled off my blindfold. We stood outside of an abandoned house- classic. Whoever we were meeting wasn't very creative, which was probably why he needed Victoria's help.

I didn't recognize where we were, but it wasn't anywhere in London, I knew. The open space and insolation strongly suggested the country.

I was having trouble believing that she already trusted me enough to let me just go freely, out of my own will. "No more intimidating warnings?" I asked, half-kidding.

"I didn't give you a weapon, did I? And, anyway, I've dealt with this guy before. He's not about to try to kill me. You won't be necessary today. This is only a test for you."

I could accept that answer. It was less cryptic than most of the others she'd given me the day before. I only had one more question. "What's he done to need your… services?"

Victoria looked at me, a more serious expression on her face then I'd seen before. "I don't ask questions, and neither should you. I keep myself oblivious. It's better that way. Don't say a word to my client. I'll do the talking."

I nodded, surprised by this abrupt change in her manner. She cautiously entered the building and I followed.

Whatever I had been anticipating, it was not this. A man in an ugly tweed suit that didn't quite fit (a gift from a sibling or maybe a cousin) stood inside, leaning against a rotting column. He was in his mid-forties, an avid smoker, and owned a large dog. He was married, with children, and his family was completely unaware of what he did for a living outside of any normal, law-abiding job. He wasn't rich, probably got most of his money from dishonest means as well as a bit of gambling. He lacked the self-confidence of an experienced and successful criminal, most likely a petty thief who sometimes got himself into situations that were far over his head.

"Victoria." The man greeted her. He gave me only a fleeting glance. Apparently he'd been expecting her to bring me along.

"Hello again, Briggs. It's been a while since you've contacted me. Is another prying neighbor giving you trouble?" She smirked, remembering some other conversation, presumably about the first time he had needed Victoria's assistance.

He gave her a dry smile. "No, actually. I'm afraid I lied when I told you I came here for my own appointment. I only told you that so you'd come. There's someone else that's interested, though."

Victoria rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. "And who would that be?"

Before the man she had called Briggs could reply, there were three loud bangs. Gunshots. Briggs let out a sharp cry of pain, coughing up blood, and crumpled forward. He was killed instantly, three bullet holes in his back.

A floorboard creaked, and a tall figure stepped into the brightly lit entryway from the dark recesses of the inside of the house. I recognized him immediately.

Sebastian Moran.

He gestured to the dead man in an offhand way. "Just cleaning up a bit. He knew too much, anyway. Couldn't let him leave." He spoke only to Victoria. "I'm Sebastian Moran, by the way. I expect Sherlock Holmes over there-" he tipped his head toward me. "-knows who I am." He smiled at me. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Victoria stiffened when he addressed me. "You've met?" her voice had raised an octave, sounding even higher than usual.

"Not technically." I replied, still staring at Sebastian. He was an expert at what he did; he was careful. What could he possibly want with Victoria?

"Oh," I detected an odd note of relief in Victoria's tone as it smoothed back to its normal pitch. "Well, Sebastian, I'm going to have to ask you to ditch your gun. I don't like dealing with people who are armed."

"And you aren't?" He tossed the gun away, and it skidded far back into the black interior of the old house. Then he walked up close to Victoria, towering over her so that she had to look almost straight up to see his face.

She stood her ground, not backing away an inch. "Let's get down to business, then. What do you need me for?"

"See, that's the thing," Sebastian's voice grew soft as he leaned toward her. "I didn't come here so you help me, Victoria. I came here to kill you." He pulled another pistol out of his jacket and just as quickly shot her point-blank, not hesitating for a moment. She didn't even have time to turn away. She fell to the ground, a look of horror on her face and a crimson spot blooming across her chest.

He turned to me, a curious, triumphant expression on his face. "I didn't think you would try to stop me." Sebastian threw his second weapon at me, and instinctively I caught it.

Before I could say anything, he nodded once in my direction and loped off back into the darkness. As soon as he was gone I bent down next to Victoria. She wasn't dead yet, but the life was bleeding out of her by the second.

She looked at me with wide eyes. "Tell her… the code…"

"Who? Tell who?"

"Celia." She gasped. "It's _his_ name, the code. Celia… will know." And with that, she breathed her last, and I was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know, I know. That escalated quickly. Victoria's entire existence is summed up in three chapters. But don't worry, there's still a long way to go and more twists to come.**

**Sorry it took me two weeks to update. This chapter took a while to write for some reason, but it's over 2,000 words long which is pretty good for me. **

**Enjoy!**

**-Bree**

Chapter 4- Sherlock

I sat back on my heels. I was sure the police would come eventually, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. I was all by myself except for two corpses in an empty house in the middle of nowhere, holding one of the murder weapons in my hand. If _that_ didn't look suspicious, nothing did.

I knew that it wasn't often that someone's kidnapper was killed before the person they'd kidnapped had even had a chance to be found. It was an odd situation. On one hand, I was glad to no longer be under Victoria's jurisdiction, but, on the other, I had no real way out of here. Her guards had left just as we got out of the car, and I didn't know when they'd come back, if ever. They might have been in on Sebastian's plan, too.

I sighed, standing up. I might as well just get out of here, try to find some other remote town within a radius of a few miles, and work my way back to London. There was nothing more keeping me here, least of all Victoria… but I couldn't leave. Sebastian's sudden appearance, why he had wanted to kill Victoria, her death, and the two people described in her last words, 'Celia' and 'him,' was all just too intriguing. My personal involvement aside, I probably would have accepted it if I'd heard about it from a client.

I debated with myself for approximately three seconds, then decided that, yes, I would leave, but not without getting some information first. I reached down and dug through Victoria's pockets, pulling out her mobile. With any luck, this Celia had a phone number, and this phone number would be in Victoria's contacts.

I was right. In fact, it was on her speed dial. I inhaled and pressed the call button.

It hadn't even rung twice before Celia picked up. "Hello, Victoria?"

Her voice sounded a lot like Victoria's, but slightly lower in pitch. The last piece of my thinking clicked into place and my deduction of her relation to Victoria was complete. "Celia, isn't it? You're Victoria's sister?"

Her tone hardened. "Who is this?"

I cut to the chase. "Victoria's dead." I heard a little gasp at the other end, but I went on without a pause. "She's been murdered. It's a rather long story." I smiled, finding a way out. "It's not something to be discussed over the phone, and I'm a bit stuck right now. I think it would be convenient for both of us if you came and picked me up-"

Celia cut me off. "You didn't answer my question. Who the h*ll are you?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes." If she recognized my name as her sister had, she didn't say anything. "And I promise it would be in your best interests to come and find me."

"How do I know you're not just some predator?"

"You don't. But if it's any comfort, I don't even have the slightest idea where I am, and I didn't come here out of my own free will. I didn't kill Victoria, either, in case you were wondering."

"From what I can tell from your voice, you're not lying, but I can't be sure without seeing you in person, so I'll come, but you should know I'm not stupid enough to go alone." She stopped. "Wait, did you say you don't even _know_ where you are?"

"Yes, I did, but if you had any knowledge of what your sister did for a living, you probably do." It was a risky bet, but it was worth it if it worked.

It did. She hesitated for only a second before replying, "Any details or are you just going to make me search all of her meeting places until I happen to come across you?"

I was glad she seemed to be playing along. "Have you heard of the name Briggs? In a big abandoned country house?"

There was the sound of papers rustling. "I think I know where you're talking about."

"Good. Drive here and I'll meet you out front. Bring all the back-up you want."

"Oh, I will." And then she hung up.

I dropped Victoria's phone and went through the rest of her pockets to see if I could find anything of significance. There was nothing other than a bit of change, a scrap of cloth that smelled faintly of cologne, and a slip of paper, which I glanced at and then slid into my own coat pocket for future reference.

I waited outside for Celia. It didn't take more than an hour for an expensive silver car to come up the road, and I knew it had to be her.

She stepped out of the car unaccompanied, to my surprise, and was apparently alone. Celia was as skinny as her late sister, but still rather strong- muscles stood out beneath her pale skin. She was about three or four years older than Victoria, and a full head taller, with far lighter hair. The complete opposite of the recently deceased Briggs, Celia was unmarried and planned to stay that way, had a _very_ good-paying job, and she had an air of self-assurance and coldness to her.

Celia's eyes met mine. "You're Sherlock Holmes?"

I nodded, eager to leave, and opened my mouth to speak. "Victoria-"

She interrupted me. "You said she's dead. She's in the house, isn't she?"

"Yes…"

"Well, can I see her body or not?" she demanded.

"Go on ahead." I moved out of the way of the door. I could understand the fact that she was excited to see a dead body, but this was her sister, and I was pretty sure most people didn't like seeing their relatives dead in front of them.

I didn't have much time to try to figure it out, though, because she returned in under a minute, her face white and her former aloof attitude sobered.

"She's really… she's really dead, isn't she?" Sadness had seeped into her tone. "I thought you had been lying."

I really wasn't in the mood for this conversation, and anyway I'd be the first to admit that I'm somewhat lacking in the sympathy department, as John has repetitively informed me. "Well, now that you know I wasn't, let's get out of here."

She shot a despairing glance toward the door she had just come out of, and, behind it, her sister. "Don't you think we should call the police?"

"At first I thought they might have heard the gunshots, but it's been over an hour. They should have been here by now." I hesitated. "If you really want to contact them, use Victoria's phone. It's less suspicious. Then we'll leave."

"Alright. I'll be right back." Celia disappeared into the house for a bit, and when she exited, all traces of her grief had vanished from her face. Her expression was professional again. "Come along, then." She strode back to her car, her high heels sinking slightly into the ground with each step.

I followed her into the car. No one else was in it. She really had come by herself. "I thought you said you were bringing others."

"I did." Celia answered, and started the engine. Several men- at least eight –came out from various hiding places surrounding the building we'd just been standing next to.

"Oh." I replied faintly, irritated at myself for not noticing the others there. Sure, they hadn't been in immediate view, and my attention had been focused on Celia, but I should have been more observant.

She smiled at me, shifting gears and backing her car up. "Don't feel bad; they're good at what they do."

"So am I." I switched the gear back to park, stopping the car suddenly. "It's not very nice to covertly drive a stranger to a secluded place just so you can more easily kill them. I should know. It's happened to me before."

Celia sighed and reached for the gear stick again, flipping it to 'drive' without another word. The engine revved loudly.

Houses quickly started to appear on the sides of the street. Celia drove fast. "Where are you taking me now?" I asked.

"Somewhere more public: a café."

"Glad you changed your plans."

"It's not just for your benefit. You can't kill me in cold blood with a lot of witnesses either."

I laughed. "You really think that_ I_ would kill _you_?"

"I don't have any idea who you are, besides that you have a funny name and you didn't kill Victoria but you know who did. Am I right?"

"Not at all. My name isn't funny. I just had creative parents."

She shot me an irritated look. "I meant about knowing who killed Victoria."

"Yes, I watched her die, and, yes, I know who murdered her. It was a man called Sebastian Moran."

Celia drew in a breath quickly and then cursed.

"You already know who that is?" I was honestly surprised, and also glad that I didn't have to go into an extensive, drawn-out explanation.

"Long story. But you go first. You seem to know a lot about me, figuring out where I was going to take you and all that, but, like I said, I don't know you. Why were you with Victoria, anyway?"

So I would have to give an explanation anyway. This one wasn't much easier. "Victoria… kidnapped me, and-"

Sudden comprehension flashed across her face. "So you were the second one, then?"

"What?"

"She told me how she kidnapped that other guy a while back in preparation for 'someone else.' That must be you."

I remembered what Victoria had told me-had it only been yesterday?-during our first conversation. "Yes. She said I was supposed to be her bodyguard, but there was more to it that she wasn't telling me."

"That sounds like her. She only ever confided things in me when I brought them up." Celia was doing surprisingly well. She had just seen Victoria's dead body after she'd been murdered in cold blood, and Celia could causally reference her sister without getting choked up. Most people weren't that strong (although of course I am), but then again, Celia wasn't at all a weak person. She seemed like she had a pretty influential position, probably in the government. Maybe Mycroft knew her.

Celia and I were both lost in our thoughts for a minute, and then she spoke up again. "Did your room have one small window, a large desk, and faced east?"

"Yes, it did. How did you…?"

"It's the one in the best condition. She blindfolded you so you wouldn't see the rest of the house. She likes-sorry, _liked_ to pretend that she was filthy rich, so I figured she'd have put you in the only room that wasn't showing signs of decay. It's actually a very old home that she lived in, and pretty run-down. Victoria was barely holding onto it as it was. She was broke."

"Victoria was _poor_?"

"Not originally. Our parents are rich, and they used to give her cash when she needed it. They stopped when they found out about what she actually did for a living." Celia paused, sighing. "I'll spare you the details. Anyway, she started losing money faster than she could make it, but admittedly she hid it well. She was used to being wealthy, so acting like she still was must have been second nature."

"What about her guards?"

"I paid for them. They were from my own business."

"You might want to think about improving your background checks. I think they were in on the plan, seeing as they drove away almost immediately and didn't come back. By the way, what _is _your business?" I wanted to figure out if my earlier guess had been right.

Celia smiled wryly. "It doesn't matter. It's a government job. Anyway, so you think this was premeditated?"

"It had to be. Briggs said he lied when he had asked for help, and who knows when he had contacted her about today's meeting? The real question is how far back it was when Sebastian came up with this plan to kill her."

But it turned out that my question would have to wait for an answer, because just then Celia looked in the rearview mirror and swore.

"We're being followed."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- Sherlock

"Oh, sh*t." Celia hissed.

I turned around in my seat to look out the back window. Sure enough, a black van with tinted windows was tailing us. It wasn't right behind us, but was close enough for its occupants to have a good view of us. Every time there was an opportunity to turn, the other car would wait for Celia to switch on the blinkers before they did the same, echoing our movements. Yes, they were definitely following us.

Celia glanced sharply at me, running through a red traffic light in the process. "Who the h*ll is that?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't really matter." I was starting to recognize buildings that we flew by. We were back in London. I could use this to our advantage; I knew the city- but, then again, the people following us might know it, too.

Celia's hands were tight on the steering wheel, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. "Probably just someone who's tying up loose ends, then."

Whoever it was, they weren't stupid. Celia tried several different tactics to try to throw them off, to no avail. Finally, muttering a stream of profanities under her breath, she slammed her foot into the gas, whip the car to the left more quickly than I'd thought possible. It was a sharp turn, to say the least, and one our pursuers couldn't have seen coming. Celia sped on down the road until it branched to the side. Another nerve-jarring jerk of the wheel and too late we both realized that we were now hurtling straight toward a roadblock. Celia applied the brakes with more force than necessary. We skidded to a stop on two wheels, almost flipping the car.

Celia breathed heavily beside me. "Do you think we lost them?"

I was busy looking out the window for any sign of the black van. I didn't see anything, but it was still too early to let down my guard. "It looks like it, but I wouldn't count on-"

And then I saw the same dark van pull up smoothly next to us, cutting off the only exit. A lone man got out of the back seat.

"_Mycroft!_" I shouted, honestly shocked to see him. "What the _h*ll _are you doing here?" Quickly getting out of the car, I strode up to him, Celia following somewhat warily behind.

"I could easily ask you the same question." My brother retorted, staring at me with an odd expression. "Of all people, Sherlock, I would have thought you the _least_ susceptible to Stockholm Syndrome." He snapped his fingers at Celia, who stopped in her tracks, a few feet behind me. "Don't take another step unless you want to die."

"You think _Celia_ kidnapped me?" I laughed drily. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Yes, I think we do." Mycroft never took his eyes off Celia, even as he addressed me. "If she didn't abduct you, then who did?"

"My sister," answered Celia in a dull, matter-of-fact tone. "She's dead."

Mycroft looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded. "Moran killed her."

Mycroft pursed his lips. "As interesting as I'm sure this conversation will turn out to be, I think it'd be more appropriate if we took this somewhere more private."

He had a point. People were starting to stare. Celia and I were casually chatting with the very person who, after chasing us, had caused Celia to nearly roll her car. It must have been a very remarkable scene.

"You're right. Let's go." I replied.

"Both of you can ride with me, then. It'll be easier." He glanced at Celia. "I'll have someone pick up your car later."

He said it was because it simply easier that we all ended up in the same car, but Mycroft made it obvious that, in actuality, he didn't trust her.

I didn't have to ask where we were going. It had been nearly two days since John had heard from or seen me after I'd just disappeared in the middle of the night. He had probably freaked out and got Mycroft to look for me, which had most likely been what my brother had been doing right up to the point where he found us.

So I wasn't surprised when we pulled up right in front of 221B. Celia and I stepped out into the street, but Mycroft stayed in the car.

"I've got to get back to my office." He told me. "Not that I'm not glad that you're back, Sherlock, but I have work to do. You can fill me in later."

Mycroft shut the car door, not waiting for a reply. I led Celia up to the front door and stopped, turning to face her.

"If you could just wait here for a moment. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Alright," She sounded confused.

I went inside, shutting the door behind me. I'd known how this was going to go down since I'd gotten into my brother's car. John was going to be very angry, and that didn't need to be a group discussion.

Thankfully Mrs. Hudson was out. That was a conversation I could save for later. She was a lovely landlady, but I wasn't in the mood for an emotional greeting at the moment.

I was, after all, on a case, however interrupted.

I walked up the steps and stood in front of the door of Baker Street, bracing myself. Then, taking a deep breath, I turned the door knob and slipped inside.

Just as I'd suspected, John sat in his chair in the living room. Head in his hands, he'd heard the door open, but he hadn't known it was me.

"That you, Lestrade?" he mumbled.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said lightly.

John looked up. "You- Sherlock-" And just like that, his disbelieving voice colored with rage. "What were you thinking? You bloody idiot, getting yourself kidnapped again and then just strutting back here like nothing ever happened!" He got up and came over to me, fists clenching and unclenching like he wasn't sure if he wanted to hug me or hit me. "You had me scared half to death, _again_…" Suddenly, he threw his arms around me, selecting the former of his choices, his fury abruptly breaking as he switched reactions again.

"Sherlock… don't ever do that again." John whispered, as if I could control when and if I got kidnapped. "That's the third time I thought you were dead."

"actually, that was the _second_ time you thought I _might_ have been dead. You only really thought I was dead once, after-"

"Fine, fine, I get it." He let go of me and took a step back. "Who kidnapped you this time? And how did you get away, anyway?"

"That's what I'm about to explain." I moved back toward the door. "I just have to get something first."

John raised his eyebrows.

"It'll only take a second."

He sighed, and I took that as permission to go. I hurried down the steps to grab Celia, who was still as bewildered as ever, and showed her up the stairs.

It only had been half a minute since I'd left the flat. I eased open the door again and walked inside, Celia two steps behind. I started to introduce them, but, seeing John, quickly realized that I didn't need to.

My friend stood by the sofa, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"_Celia?_"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6- Sherlock

It was my turn to be surprised. "You know Celia?"

"She's… one of my exes." John replied, looking at the floor. I couldn't understand why people did that, stare at the floor. It never made the situation any less uncomfortable for anyone.

"It was a long time ago," he added.

The tension in the air was almost palpable. Celia crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter now, John. You don't have to apologize again."

"I wasn't planning on it." His tone was hard as he spoke to me. "Why is she here, anyway?"

Celia replied before I could. "Well, _long_ story short, my sister- Victoria; you might have met her, John –kidnapped your friend here and now she's been killed."

"And that's it?" John was of course confused on how we'd gotten from point A to point B. "She kidnapped Sherlock and then she just… died?"

"Not exactly." I corrected. "She kidnapped me, and then she took me to an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere to meet one of her clients, and he betrayed her, and _then_ she died."

"Clients?" John asked.

"Victoria's job involved illegally keeping people out of jail that really should be there." I chuckled. "She was practically the new consulting criminal."

"You think she knew Moriarty?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure Celia does."

"What gave you that idea?" There was a subtle change in Celia's tone, an almost imperceptible falseness. "I've never heard of him."

"You're good at lying." I smirked. "Just not quite good enough. Tell us the truth."

She looked surprised to have been caught, which showed me just how good she was. "If you insist. But it's really nothing."

"Then why did you lie?"

"Habit. Most of the people I deal with don't mind holding back either." She crossed the room and sank down into an armchair. "Like I said, it's not much to go on, but, yes, I knew him. Briefly, when my sister was dating him." She glanced at John. "See, I'm not the only one who gets around. Anyway, Victoria had connections, if nothing else, and they weren't always good ones. She knew a lot of bad people."

"That must have been how Moriarty came across her. He had quite a network himself." I commented, the pieces fitting together in my mind.

"Yes." Celia confirmed. "That was probably it. She met him one day and they started getting really close almost instantly. None of us knew, at first, exactly what he did for a living. Victoria knew, though. She told me that he was teaching her a certain specific trade. I asked her what, but she wouldn't tell me. Less than a week afterward, I learned that she had gotten a job. She'd always had trouble obtaining and keeping a steady job, so this surprised me. Her new boyfriend clearly had something to do with it, but her lips were sealed on the subject. Finally, I managed to pressure her into telling me. She confessed that Jim was a killer and that her new profession was more criminal and less innocent than she had led everyone to believe. Victoria really loved him, I think. It was hard for her when our parents finally found out about who Jim really was. They made her break up with him. She called me the night after we heard that he had died, and she was crying. At first I thought it was just because she had been so attached to him, but she told me that she suspected that she'd be killed because she knew that Jim wasn't actually Richard Brooke and someone might want to keep her quiet. I told her not to worry-" Celia's voice broke and she seemed on the edge of tears. "Sorry, it's just- I should have known- shouldn't have just brushed it off-"

"You said earlier that you knew Moran." I prompted, having heard all that I needed to.

"Did I?" she frowned, her eyebrows creasing. "I don't remember that." Celia checked her watch, collecting herself. "That's all I know, so, if you don't mind, I'll be leaving now." She stood up. "I've got an appointment to get to."

John clearly was happy to show her the way out. As he closed the door behind her, he exhaled loudly. "Now I remember why I stopped dating her. She lies too much."

My eyes widened. Maybe John was finally catching on to my methods. "You noticed, too?"

"If you're not talking about when you called her out on not being honest, then no."

Ah, well. There was still time for him to learn. I sighed. "What I was referring to was that story she gave us about her very small and inconsequential involvement in the whole thing. Come on, you didn't really swallow that, did you?"

"What if I did?"

"It was obviously not true, John. She has tells- did you not notice how much she cleared her throat and picked at her nails? Worse, she mentioned Moran earlier and denied it just now. I've been onto her ever since I first told her that her sister was dead. She didn't ever appear to even remotely grieve, and when she did show remorse, it was a flaky act. So she must have been lying. The question is, about what?" I concluded.

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Change my clothes." I went in my room and shut the door. I'd been wearing the same suit for the past three days, having put it on earlier on the day I'd been kidnapped and not having another opportunity to change out of it.

I reemerged a few minutes later in a fresh suit. The piece of paper that had been in the pocket of my old one was now in my hand. I'd almost forgotten about pulling it from Victoria's corpse just before Celia had picked me up. "And now," I said to John, "I'm going to see where this leads us."

John raised his eyebrows, taking the note from me. "It's a bank note. What's this got to do with anything?"

"I found it on Victoria's body. It's hers. And I have a feeling it's going to take us right where we need to be."


End file.
